What Happens in Vegas
by My last username sucked
Summary: A meeting about "officer safety", two hurting people, and dirty drink names. What could go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first time posting a story, anywhere. Criticism is welcome, as long as you don't come straight out and say "I hate this story". Okay? Great. Please review. Buh bye.**

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**Disclaimer, mismaimer. I don't own ****_Psych._**

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"I'm so glad that this meeting is almost over," I said, dropping onto my bed and laying back. It was eight o' clock, P.M.

Carlton nodded, putting my suit case on the floor next to the dresser.

"You'd think a meeting in Las Vegas would be more fun," he said, standing a little awkwardly. I nodded, sitting up.

"Well, how about us getting changed and getting some dinner and maybe a drink?" I asked. He nodded.

"Okay, I'll get my stuff to my room down the hall, and be back in fifteen minutes?" Carlton asked.

"Sure, sounds good," I said. He turned to leave. As soon as the door shut, I was up and throwing things out of my suit case, trying to find something nice to wear.

We were here for a meeting, lasting until Monday, and leaving on Tuesday.

And I was here with Carlton, the best man on the force. In all aspects. Annoying and cocky, yes, slightly. The best detective. Extreme personality and fiercely opinionated, but open to hear others out, even if he was just going to ignore their suggestion. Definitely the most attractive. And the most unavailable.

I shook my head. Nothing would happen. There was no way in hell he would want me. I was a few years younger than him, forty. My eyes were too dark to be pretty, I was divorced, and I had five year old. I didn't compare to Marlowe.

She was only thirty four, ten years younger than him. She had beautiful blue eyes with matching long blonde hair. She was taller than most women, approximately 5' 8". She was the definition of perfect.

But I had one thing on her.

I wasn't in jail.

I opened my door right as Carlton walked up.

"Ready to go?" he asked. I nodded.

"Where do you wanna eat?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Is the hotel's restaurant good for you?" he asked, shutting my door behind us. I shouldered my purse on our way to the elevator.

"Yeah, it's fantastic," I said, stepping onto the elevator, trying not to stare at the mesmerizing blue eyes I had become infatuated with.

* * *

After dinner, Carlton had left to take a call. Two hours later, I found him in the hotel bar, more than half way drunk.

"Hey, Carlton, you okay?" I asked, sitting next to him at the bar.

"Never been better, Karen," he said. The bar tender came around. "Another shot of Jameson's."

"I'll have a double vodka on the rocks," I said, analyzing his face. Definitely upset.

"I didn't know you drank," he stated. I shrugged.

"I haven't since college, other than wine," I said, watching him grin a little. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, taking the shot almost as soon as it hit the bar. I took my vodka, slamming it back almost the same. Damn, it burned!

"Your gonna get sick," he said plainly.

"Oh, well. You seem pretty fun to get drunk with, so…," I dropped off, nudging his knee.

"How do I seem fun to get drunk with?" he asked. I grinned.

"Inter department Christmas party of 2004. Not to mention what I've heard from a certain Ursula Gibbs, who swears up and down I have to corner you for her," I said, grinning wider.

"I doubt I'll be much fun tonight, even drunk," he said, ordering another shot, my drink along with his.

I sipped my drink, almost thoughtfully.

"Try me, Carlton."

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"I know, I know, I know what we neeeeed, Karen!" Carlton slurred happily. I grinned.

"What do we need, Mr. Scarecrow?" I asked back, even though my voice sounded delayed.

"How do shots sound, Misses, um, Dorothy?" his voice sounded delayed, too. I finished my drink happily.

"That sounds like a fantastic idea," I said, laughing uncontrollably.

"Shots!" Carlton yelled.

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"Okay, so is it salt, shot, lime; lime, salt, shot; shot salt lime; or lime, shot, salt?" I asked. If anybody lit a cigarette near either of us, the hotel would explode.

"Tequila sucks no matter how you do it," he said plainly, then cracked up.

"Then let's do it salt, shot, lime," I said, then licked the salt off my hand, took the shot, and bit into the lime. Carlton did the same, shuddering slightly.

"How 'bout something else this time?" he said.

"Okay, two Sex Machines," I said to the bar tender, watching Carlton's ears redden. The bar tender slid us the shots, walking off to a new guy in the nearly empty bar.

"What is even in it, Karen?" he asked, already knocking it back.

"Coffee liqueur and Irish cream," I said, remembering from those college days.

"Hmm, not all that bad," he said ordering another two.

"You never told me what was wrong," I said a few moments later.

"Marlowe called. Said she felt terrible asking me to wait for her. Told me to forget about her," he said, taking his shot. Oh. I covered his hand on the counter with mine.

"I'm sorry, Carlton. I'm gonna make you feel better," I said stupidly.

"How?" he asked. I smiled.

"By ordering every dirty drink I can remember."

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After two more rounds of Sex Machines, followed by four Slippery Nipples, two Liquid Viagras, and, my favorite, the Royal Fuck, Carlton and I were smashed.

"We should do something," he said, staring at a football game. I giggled.

"We are doing something!" I said. He rolled his eyes.

"I mean something fun! What do people do for fun in Vegas at one in the morning?" he asked. I thought real hard.

"People gamble!" I said. Carlton smiled.

"What else?" He asked.

"Well, they get drunk, and then married," I said. "It's, like, the rules of Vegas.

"Let's do it," he said taking my hand. He paid the tab, then pulled me to the door.

"What are we doing?" I asked, clinging to his hand.

"The Rules of Vegas! We drank, so we got one down," he said. I nodded.

"Now we're gonna gamble," he said, pulling me towards the Casino. I nodded again.

"And then?" I asked. He grinned.

"Then we get married."

"Okay."

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**A/N: What do you think? Should I scrap it? Please, if you don't like it, be specific about what is wrong with it. Reviews help authors A lot more than you'd think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry about the two week lag. I know my stories are short and slight crap, but please gimme a chance.**

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**_What will they remember?_**

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Why, dear God, did my mouth taste like dirt and glue, and feel about the same? My head was pounding, and my brain was foggy.

A pair of muscular arms tightened around my waist. Then I realized I was naked. And whoever belonged to those arms was definitely gorgeous by the feel of his chest against my back and his calves around my shins. I shifted to get out of bed, trying not to wake the mysterious man who was in bed with me.

A quick survey of surroundings said I wasn't in my room. However, when I made to get a shirt off the floor(an oddly familiar light blue one), my bed partner sat up.

Oh, sweet mother of God.

"Karen?"

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Ten minutes later, Carlton and I were sitting on his bed, me dressed in his button up (my shirt was missing).

"So, what do you remember about last night?" I asked a boxer clad Carlton as he rubbed his temple.

"I remember doing shots, um, dancing, and I think gambling," he said, avoiding my gaze. That would be why my mouth tasted like cat litter. "What do you remember?"

I twisted my hands and said, "I remember the shots, the dancing, and the gambling. I faintly remember Elvis, and a man asking if we were positive, 'cause it would hurt." I looked down at my hands, seeing something shiny on the left one.

A thin golden band. I scanned Carlton's left hand. He had a matching one, though slightly thicker.

"Oh, my God," I said. I grabbed his left and with my own.

"Well, crap on a damned cracker," he groaned, falling back against a pillow.

"The rules of Vegas," I laughed quietly. "That's what we called them."

"Why do they just let drunk people get married?" he asked. I shrugged and fell on the pillow next to him.

"I don't know," I said, rolling over to face him, and poked his chest. "What is that?"

It was a tattoo, not very big, about the size of a golf ball. Slightly red, new. A tiny heart. With my name in beautiful script across it. Right over his heart.

"Well, that explains the guy saying it would hurt," Carlton said sarcastically. I laughed, despite this predicament.

"We have a meeting in an hour," I said softly. "Meet for breakfast?" He nodded. I walked out of his room and down the hall to mine, praying that no one saw me. And that last night's mistakes were just a push to a beginning.

* * *

I got in the shower, scrubbing myself aggressively. I had slept with my head detective. Granted, we were married, but that was another rule broken on its own. In forty five minutes, we would have to sit next to each other like nothing was wrong.

I shampooed and conditioned my hair, and rinsed it. Maybe things would be okay. We would probably get the marriage annulled. He probably still wanted Marlowe. And I would go back into my defensive state, joking with him and wishing from a distance.

I got out of the shower and glanced at myself in the mirror. There. Right where my heart was. A tiny heart. With Carlton written across in the same pretty script. We had gotten matching tattoos.

"So, we match," I said, meeting Carlton by the elevator.

"What?" he asked. He still had his ring on. I felt mine in my pocket, where I had slipped it off before leaving.

"I have a tattoo," I said. He seemed surprised, but not much.

"Well, we just made lots of decisions last night," he said, stepping into the elevator. I followed him, and pushed the button for the lobby. After a few seconds, I spoke up.

"Why do you still have the ring on?" I asked. He blushed, reddening at the tips of his ears. Adorable, really, given the circumstances.

"It's stuck," he admitted. I grinned.

"That's not something a girl wants to hear," I said weakly. He smiled back.

"It won't come off. I've tried soap, Vaseline, and lotion," he said, thrusting his hand into his pocket.

"Well, I'll put mine back on," I said, taking the ring out of my pocket and slipping it on my left ring finger, "and then we really will match."

We got off the elevator and stopped at the hotel's restaurant for breakfast. I was glad we were able to talk. Even if it was about divorce and annulment.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the "Don't You Want Me" duo. That was really great, you guys," said a random guy. I think he might have been in the bar last night.

"What the hell went on last night?" Carlton asked after the waiter took our orders and came back with drinks.

"I vaguely remember karaoke," I said. We both started laughing, until the waiter came back with our food.

We ate in near silence, talking only about the meeting.

"We should go," Carlton said, taking his credit card back from the waiter. We left a tip, then left for the meeting.

As we walked toward the building, Carlton slipped his right hand around my left, fiddling with my ring.

"We'll talk about it later," he said, and I closed my mouth, though I hadn't realized it was open.

I didn't know what would come later, but now felt pretty damn good for a hangover.


	3. Chapter 3

**Yeah, I'm back. Sorry for the delay. Shit happens. I hope this chapter is up to par for you guys.**

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"I read somewhere you can get it off with Windex," I said, sitting down beside him on his bed. He sat up, taking his arms off of his knees.

"Windex?" he asked. I nodded.

"You tie a piece of floss around the ring, spray it with Windex, and pull on the floss. It's supposed to slide right off," I said. He sighed.

"Let's try it," he said. I walked into his bathroom, finding a bottle of Windex in a cabinet. I went through his shaving bag and found some floss. I walked back into the bedroom. I sat next to him and held out my hand.

"Gimme," I said, flexing my fingers. He put his hand in mine. I tore a piece of floss and slid it under the ring. I sprayed a little Windex on his finger and twisted the ring around. "Ready?" He nodded. I yanked on the floss and his ring flew off.

"Now McDonald can shut his damn mouth," he growled. I rolled my eyes.

"He was just being… Yeah, he was being an asshole," I agreed. I handed the ring to him. He turned it over in his hand.

"Now what?" he asked. I bit my lip.

"Now we stop dancing and face the music," I said. He nodded.

"It's a pretty damn long song, though, Karen," he said. "Two divorces in two years for both of us."

"We can get it annulled," I said. He shook his head.

"Divorce would be faster," he said, sounding apologetic. I nodded. I dropped my head to his shoulder.

"Why did we do this, Carlton?" I asked, knowing he wouldn't have an answer. He laid his head on top of mine.

"Because Last Night Karen and Carlton are bastards that thought it would be funny," he spoke after a minute. We went silent again.

"The mayor's office will have a field day when we get back. Me, filing for divorce again," I said miserably. "It was bad enough the first time. This time it's with my head detective."

"I'm sorry, Karen," he said.

"It's not your fault. If I had just left you alone and stayed in my own head this never would have happened," I said.

"Stayed in your head?" He asked. I mentally kicked myself. It was all on the table now.

"Carlton," I started. "I think we should just talk-" He cut me off.

"Don't change the subject. Just tell me what you're thinking," he said. "And I'll tell you what I'm thinking." I nodded slowly.

"I… Carlton, I'm… Goddammit, Carlton, I'm attracted to you," I said. I was going to continue with the fact that I knew it was wrong and that he would probably want to transfer. But I couldn't. Simply because I didn't believe any of it anymore. Not with his mouth on mine, I didn't.

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"That's a 'talk'? Hell, I can't wait for an argument," Carlton said. I curled up against him and slapped his chest.

"You don't want to be on the receiving end of one of my arguments," I said, kissing his jaw.

"So, now that we have partially pondered our options, among other things, what happens?" He asked, one of his hands stroking my lower back.

"We finish our meetings, go home, quietly file for divorce, and pretend nothing ever happened?" I said, more of a question. Carlton tensed. I ran my fingertip in circles across his chest. "But I think we both know we can't forget about it."

"Damn straight," he agreed. I laid my head on his chest.

"So we finish the meetings, go home, file for divorce, and then see where this goes?" I asked. He kissed my head.

"I think that's all we can do," he said quietly. I looked up at him.

"I think we have a lot more 'talking' to do, Carlton. What do you think?" I asked.

"Oh, there's going to be a lot of 'talking' going on."

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It was fantastic to wake up in Carlton. Not with him. In him. With him all around me. His lips pressed against the back of my neck.

"Morning, sunshine," he yawned. I pushed against him, trying to get closer and push the day away.

"I don't wanna get up," I said. I felt him smile against my neck. "If I get up, I have to see other people. If I have to see other people, I can't kiss you when I want to." I rolled over to face him and pecked his lips. He kissed me back.

"If we don't get up, McDonald or some other asshat will come up to your room to check on you. When you're not there, they'll come to my room, and find me doing things that should not be done between the Chief of Police and her Head Detective," he said, kissing me again and rolling away. I groaned.

"Bastard," I said as he got out of bed and stepped into the bathroom.

"Call me something I haven't heard," he called. I got up and followed him into the bathroom. He was shaving.

"You shave before you shower?" I asked, pressing my lips against his shoulder as I passed to the shower. I started the water.

"Yeah," he said, putting his razor down. He turned around to me. "You need any help in the shower?"

"I thought you'd never ask."


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